No low-level living for him here, either. Lady Jane led him on to the family’s floor, urging the two drudges who were carrying the canvases and sky broom wood panels to mind their steps and not damage their burdens.
She opened the door, presenting him with the key, and he was bemused as he followed her into a large day room, at least ten times larger than the cubicle at Bitra, on the outside of the Hold so that it had a wide, tall window facing northeast. It was a gracious room, too, the stone walls washed a delicate greeny-white, the furnishings well-polished wood, with a pleasing geometric pattern in greens and beige on the coverings.
I do know that artists prefer a north light, but this is the best we can do for you on that score Benden’s Lady fluttered her hands here and there. They were graceful, small hands, with only the wide band of a spousal ring on the appropriate finger. Another contrast to the Bitran tendency to many gaudy jewels.
“It’s far more than I expected, Lady Jane,” he said as sincerely as he could.
“And I’m sure it’s far more than you had at Bitra Hold,” she said with a contemptuous sniff. “Or so I’ve been told. You may be sure that Benden Hold would never place an artist of your rank and ability with the drudges. Bitrans may lay claim,” and her tone expressed her doubt, “to having a proper Bloodline, but they have never shown much couth!” She noticed him testing the sturdiness of the easel. “That’s from stores. It belonged to Lesnour. D’you know his work?”
“Lesnour?”
“Indeed.”
Iantine dropped his hand from the smoothly waxed upright. Lesnour, who’d lived well past the hundred mark, had designed and executed Benden Hold’s murals and had been famed for his use of color.
He’d also compiled a glossary of pigments available from indigenous materials, a volume which Iantine had studied and which had certainly helped him at Bitra.
Lady Jane pushed open the wooden door into the sleeping room, which was not large but still generous in size. He could see the large bed, its four posts carved with unusual leaves and flowers: probably taken from Earth’s botany. She pointed at the back to the third room of the suite: a private toilet and bath. And the whole suite was warm. Benden had been constructed with all the same conveniences that Fort Hold boasted.
“This is much more than I need, Lady Jane,” Iantine said, almost embarrassed as he dropped his carisak to the floor of the day room.
“Nonsense! We know at Benden what is due a man of your abilities. Space,” and she gave a graceful sweep of her hand about the room, “is so necessary to compose the thoughts and to allow the mind to relax.”
She did another complicated arabesque with her hands and smiled up at him. He smiled back at her, trying to act gracious rather than amused at her extravagant manner. “Now, the evening meal will be served in the Great Hall at eight, and you’ll dine at the upper table,” she said with a firm smile to forestall any protests. Would you care to have someone put at your disposal to help with your materials?”
“No, thank you most kindly, Lady Jane, but I’m used to doing for myself.” Maybe he could have borrowed Leopol for a few weeks? There was certainly enough space for the boy to be accommodated in with him.
So she left, after he had once again expressed his profuse thanks for the courtesies.
He prowled about the rooms, then washed his hands and face, learning that the water came very hot out of the spigot.
The bath had been carved out of the rock, deep enough for him to immerse himself completely and sufficiently long to lie flat out in the water. Even the Weyr had not such elegant conveniences.
He unpacked his clothing so that the wrinkles would hang out of his good green shirt and began setting up his workplace.
And then sat down in one of the upholstered chairs, plunked his feet down on the footstool, leaned back and sighed. He could get accustomed to this sort of living, so he could! Except for the one lack - Debera.
He wondered briefly if Lady Jane would flutter while she posed for him. And how would he pose her? Somehow he must put in the flutter of her, but also her grace and charm.
He wondered what instrument she played with those small hands. If only Debera weren’t so far away Iantine might not have been pleased to know that Debera was at that very moment the subject of discussion between the Weyrleaders at Telgar.
“No,” Zulaya was saying, shaking her head, she has now retrieved the relevant chart from the storage cabinet and brought it to the table. K’vin hastily cleared a space.
“Then look along the Kahrainian coast where the Armada had a long stop for repairs.” That’s all been gone over so often.”
“And not much retrieved. Anyway, it’s not so much what we find but more that we went for a look,” Zulaya said with a droll grin.
“The entire Weyr?”
“Well, the fighting wings, certainly. Leave the training ones here, give them responsibility… and see how they like it.”
“J’dar had better be in charge,” K’vin said, glancing to see if she agreed.
She shrugged. “J’dar or O’ney.”
“No, J’dar.” Oddly enough, she gave him a pleased smile. He hadn’t expected that, since she had specifically named O’ney, one of the oldest bronze riders. He tried to defer to her judgment whenever possible, but he’d noticed that O’ney tended to be unnecessarily officious.
“Now, this is as far as grubs had migrated on last winter’s check,” she said, running her finger along Rubicon River.
“How’re the grubs supposed to get across that?” K’vin asked, tapping the contour lines for the steep cliffs which lined the river, gradually tapering down above the Sea of Azov.
“The Agric guys say they’ll either go around or be carried across the river as larvae in the digestive tracts of wherries and some of those sport animals that were let loose. They have been breeding, you know.”
Zulaya was teasing now, since she knew very well that Charanth had had to rescue him from a very large, hungry orange and black striped feline. Charanth had been highly insulted because the creature had actually then attacked him, a bronze dragon! The incident had been a leveling one for both rider and dragon.
“Oh, and don’t I know it! I’ll not be caught that way twice.”
“It grew a mighty fine hide,” she said, her eyes dancing with challenge.
“Catch your own, Zu. Now, let’s see… should we check and see if any of the other Weyrs want to come? Make this a joint exercise?”
“Why?” she countered with a shrug. “The whole idea is to get our wings away for a bit for something besides Fall readiness.”
“Meranath,” and she turned to her queen, who was lounging indolently on her couch, her head turned in their direction and her eyes open, “would you be good enough to spread the word that the Weyr’s going off on exercise,” and she grinned at K’vin, “tomorrow, first light? That should startle a few.”
“Undoubtedly,” and glancing at Zulaya for permission, K’vin made a second request of Meranath. “And ask J’dar and T’dam to step up here, please?”
The sun will be much warmer in the south, Meranath said, and we will all like that, K’vin.
“Glad you approve,” he told her, giving the gold queen a little bow. He was also considerably gratified that she was using his name more. Could that mean that Zulaya was thinking of him more often? He kept that question tight in his mind, where even Charanth wouldn’t hear it. Did she really approve of his leadership? Zulaya never gave him any clues despite her courtesies to him in public; though he certainly appreciated that much. He didn’t seem any closer to a real intimacy with her, and he wanted one badly. Would he ever figure out how to achieve that? Could that be why she had suggested this excursion?